While listening intently in one of my summer lectures, a few ideas and theories were mentioned that struck me as considerably moving. The course was mainly focused on novels of the late Romantic era and the early Victorian era. Having a distinct attraction to the works of the Romantics, such as Wordsworth, Byron, and Coleridge, I knew that finding my way through Frankenstein wouldn’t be too much of a struggle.

Much of the novel is fascinating; the framing narrative from multiple perspectives, the underlying theme of sympathy between characters, and the speculation between the real relationship of the monster and his creator. Yet the connection of this novel to the ideas of the Romantic era was the feature that made the largest impact on how I perceived it.

The ideas of the Romantic era come into play through the general creation of the monster by Frankenstein. It is known that the Romantics were labelled for “thinking too big”, or having too vivid an imagination without possessing the proper grasp of reality that was necessary. In the case of Frankenstein, he created his monster as grotesquely large for his own convenience, so that he would not have to strain himself to create the appropriate detail. By doing so, he neglects to see the consequences that will befall his creation; as the monster is much larger, and understandably more hideous than the rest of society, the monster finds himself shunned and feared.

In direct relation to the Romantics, this idea can be connected back to the famous Romantic authors P.B. Shelley, and his wife, the author of Frankenstein, Mary Shelley. Percy Shelley believed that all writing was merely a “feeble shadow of the original conception”, and although as writers we try our best to get our ideas out in a concrete form, our best effort is diluted in comparison to its original thought. The original thought contains such grandiose and potential; however whatever the result may be, it lacks the potency needed to be infinitely great. Much like that of Frankenstein, his once great epiphany lacked the necessary detail and care. As a result, something gruesome was set loose upon the world.

As someone who loves to write, and for anyone who writes and stumbles upon this, it is obvious that at times our own writing can become a monster. From the birth of its genius inside of one’s head, to the physical manifestation of words on a page, there is always a horrific transformation. And often, like Frankenstein, we take a few steps back to look at our creation and want absolutely nothing to do with it. We see the words as a twisted version of how they were envisioned and immediately desire to choose abandonment.

Through this comparison, a few questions angrily come to mind: was Frankenstein right in abandoning his monster? Is his monster evil or not? The ambiguity of opinion toward the monster himself leaves me pondering many questions. However, before judgement can be set upon Frankenstein, this must be answered: How many half finished stories lay dormant in the ancient files of a writers’ computer? I know that many ideas of grandeur and poetic action that once filled my heart with swelling pride sit only half written in lost stacks of paper in my dresser. Although it is hard to say whether or not Frankenstein thought about the consequences of his actions in designing his creation, I know that I give him credit for at least allowing his creation to be set loose upon the world. At least he gave his creation a chance in the world, which is more than I can say. Although the vast difference between a human creation and a creation made of words is obvious, I hope one day I have the guts to walk in Frankenstein’s shoes.